


Frankly, My Dear...

by wolfwithwoodenteeth



Category: Game of Thrones (TV)
Genre: Ashley - Freeform, F/M, I'm not telling you who's who, I'm sorry but I'm afraid there's no happy ending for anyone in this one, It's still Westeros and canon era, The Gone WIth the Wind AU nobody asked for, and Melanie, but I don't feel like being called an abomination again so I'm keeping it out of that tag, but the characters and their relationships are inspired by GWTW counterparts, if you're familiar with GWTW it should be clear enough :'), past Jonerys, rhett - Freeform, this is told from Dany's POV so the relationship is still important in the story, which are Scarlett
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-02-17
Updated: 2018-08-24
Packaged: 2019-03-19 13:01:51
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 2
Words: 4,737
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13704996
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/wolfwithwoodenteeth/pseuds/wolfwithwoodenteeth
Summary: That night she shared a dance with Jorah, and as he escorted her back to her chambers, he took her hand. She glanced up at his slightly unfocused eyes, and he confessed: "If the choice had been mine, I would have chosen you. I would have fought the entire North to remain by your side. He was never worthy of you, and he probably doesn't deserve her either... But it's for the best, Khaleesi.""But the choice wasn't yours, Ser," she reminded him sharply.***When Jon Snow's true parentage is revealed, Dany is happy to finally have found someone who can truly be her family. Perhaps it should bother her more that her lover is also her nephew, but then again, they are Targaryens.But then Jon's duty tears them apart. She's convinced he still loves her, but he's too honourable to act on those feelings.Unable to let go of her love for Jon, will Dany remain blind to Jorah, the man who's been by her side from the start, who's loved her and supported her through it all?And will she be able to acknowledge that Jon and Sansa have built their love stone by stone and that her former lover has moved on?***Please check all the tags before reading!





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

  * For [FedonCiadale](https://archiveofourown.org/users/FedonCiadale/gifts).



> Remember that idea I shared with you yesterday? I couldn't let it go... And this is the result.
> 
> I'm sorry I'm writing you something so bleak, but whenever I write anything from Dany's POV, it's always bleeding angst.
> 
> I also wanted to acknowledge you for inspiring my muse!

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter is still heavy on the unrequited Jonerys... I know how I want this to end, but I'm not entirely sure how to get there yet...

Jon was barely able to look her in the eye when he informed her what the Northern council had decided. 

She nodded, trying to take it in stride, as was befitting of a queen, but when he was about to walk away from her, she slipped up. "Nothing has to change," she muttered, disgusted at how small her own voice sounded. 

He turned back to her, facing her fully for the first time. "I would never do that to her," he told her firmly. "Nor to you," he added, and that was enough to feed that small spark of hope in her heart.

He frowned, fists clenched tightly by his sides. "You once told me that our lives don't belong to ourselves. I shall do my duty, and you should do yours."

He wed Sansa Stark in the Winterfell Godswood. Afterward Dany could scarcely recall anything from that day, except that she kept repeating to herself:  _I am the blood of the dragon. The dragon does not weep._

That night she shared a dance with Ser Jorah, and as he escorted her back to her chambers, he took her hand. She glanced up at his slightly unfocused eyes, and he confessed: "If the choice had been mine, I would have chosen you. I would have fought the entire North to remain by your side. He was never worthy of you, and he probably doesn't deserve her either... But it's for the best, Khaleesi."

 _For the best,_ she fumed internally, pulling her hand from his. Jon was her nephew, the last of her blood. He belonged with her, not that dim little fool. The girl was comely enough, but Dany had often wondered whether there was a single thought inside that pretty head of hers. She could never be worthy of him.

"But the choice wasn't yours, Ser," she reminded him sharply.

 

* * *

 

The War for the Dawn had been fought and won, Jon had returned to Winterfell and Dany had finally taken the Iron Throne. It sat as uncomfortable as she had been warned, and at times she felt as lonely as she had been in Meereen.

It was better in some ways. She had advisors who knew the land and its people, and had her best interests at heart.

In some ways it was worse. This was supposed to be her home, but at times it still felt strange to her, and too many of the Westerosi lords mistrusted her after everything she'd done for them.

Rhaegal was of great comfort to her, but she was the only one of her children who'd survived the war.

And after all this time, her bear was still by her side. She'd long since forgiven him for his betrayals, he'd proven his loyalty over and over again. At times she wished she could return the love he felt for her, but try as she might, she could not bring herself to do so.

It should not matter. She was a queen, she should stay out of affairs of the heart. They only complicated matters. She'd use all of the passion in her heart to rule over her people, and be a mother to them.

She patted her daughter on the nose and said goodbye to her. She mounted her horse and waited for her bloodriders to fall in line before she dug her heels into her mount's flanks.

As soon as she arrived back in the Red Keep, she'd have to change from her riding leathers into one of her stiffling Westerosi gowns to hold court, but at least she had the feast to look forward to tonight.

***

The welcoming feast for the northern party was well underway when she entered the Queen's Ballroom. Lords and ladies and other courtiers bowed and curtsied when she passed them and she offered all of them a gracious smile or nod.

She recognized several members of the Northern party, the big lady knight and the Wildling with the orange beard most easily spotted, but still her eyes drifted to the pair in the middle of their table. She'd sent her Lord Hand to receive them this afternoon, meaning this was the first time in years she'd laid eyes on them.

He seemed a bit older, as they all did, still hard and lean in his simple black clothes. His face gave nothing away, but he looked good. She was wearing a plain grey dress and her hair was hanging over one shoulder in a single braid. She had a dreamy smile on her face.

As Daenerys approached, their entire table stood to receive her with the right honours. She walked around the dais until she was standing right next to him. He bowed his head curtly.

"Nephew," she greeted him warmly. She'd donned one of her Essosi gowns for tonight's occasion and she was pleased to notice that his eyes lingered on all the bare skin she was displaying.

He took her hand to kiss her signet ring. The touch of his burnt palm sent a shiver down her spine at the memory of the intimate places she'd felt that oddly smooth skin all those years ago.

"Niece," she said, noticing that her own voice sounded a lot more perfunctory.

"Your Grace," she responded with a low curtsey.

Daenerys offered her cheek and she kissed it, her cold lips barely brushing the skin.

Soon after some Reach lord approached the table to ask Lady Stark for a dance, if Lord Stark would be so gracious to allow it.

She bristled at that. She couldn't understand why he'd agreed to take his wife's name. She supposed it had everything to do with the Northerners' small-minded stubborn pride and their wish to never be ruled by a Southroner again.

Jon nodded and Sansa rose, allowing the man to lead her to the middle of the hall. Dany watched Jon looking at her as she was twirled around the floor. 

"Does it bother you?" she asked him.

He blinked at her. "What's supposed to bother me?"

"That your wife is dancing with another man," she clarified.

"It doesn't," he answered quickly.

 _It doesn't bother you to see your wife in another man's arms?_ she wondered. "Why not?" she asked him, narrowing her eyes.

He took a long gulp from his cup of wine, a small crease appearing between his eyebrows. "I'm not much of a dancer, but she loves dancing. I want her to be happy."

Her stomach dropped. That was not the answer she was expecting.  _It doesn't mean anything._ Sansa used to be his sister, of course he cared about her.

She reached out, covering his hand with her own and asked boldly: "Are you? Happy?"

His hand tensed under hers, as if he was trying to ball it into a fist. "Sansa and I are much alike. It was a good match," he told her, pulling his hand away.

She excused herself and moved to talk to people at the other tables. The young and comely Lord of the Eyrie asked her to dance and she accepted gladly.

As they spun around, she tried to catch Jon's eye, but he was too busy feeding his wife morsels of cake from his own plate. She'd always found it a silly custom. He dropped the spoon to lay a hand on her belly and kissed her cheek.

She looked away. Every man wanted a son. He was not a common man though, he was the blood of the dragon. Could it be enough to make him love her?

She risked another glance. His lips were at her ear, moving quickly, and Sansa's cheeks flushed a deep scarlet.

***

"I hate seeing you like this, Khaleesi." 

Once again she found herself being escorted to her chambers by Ser Jorah, half a dozen Unsullied guards trailing behind.

"You're speaking in riddles, Ser," she told him.

"I never took you for a fool, nor a desperate woman," he continued.

She pursed her lips. "Then it should please you to know I am neither."

He stopped and turned to look at her. "Aren't you?"

"I am your Queen and the blood of the dragon," she bit back. "Do not presume you can speak to me in such a manner, Ser!"

The smile he offered her was sad. "If I cannot, then who can, Khaleesi? Am I not your most loyal and trusted advisor?"

She clenched her jaw and resumed walking, not willing to admit there was reason in his words.

"Let me offer you some counsel," he carried on. "Leave that man in peace and allow yourself to love a man who actually appreciates you."

"Would that man be you, Ser Jorah?" she asked sharply.

"And why not?" he countered. "I think you're in desperate need of being loved, you've forgotten what it feels like."

He gathered her in his arms, slanting his mouth over her. His large hand cupped the back of her head and he crushed his lips to hers.

He was warm and rough, but his mouth was gentle. As his beard scraped against her soft skin, her mouth opened under his with a low moan.

She still remembered him kissing her like this, years ago, on a ship she'd renamed Balerion, but she found she enjoyed this kiss much more than the one she remembered. She'd still been so young back then.

His tongue curled with hers, her fingers digging into the leather of his jerkin, the smell of it overwhelming her, and desire stirred low in her belly.

 _No,_ she thought,  _this isn't right. I shouldn't want this._ She started pushing him away, not relenting until he released her. Panting, she lifted her fingers to touch her lips, glancing up at him. Her heart skipped a beat at the hunger in his eyes. She told herself it was fear, and whirled around to flee.

***

That night she dreamed. The air was thick with swirling mist. She couldn't see a hand before her eyes. She was searching for something, but she couldn't remember what it was. Slowly she became aware that she was not alone. There were things in the mist, dead things, clawing at her thighs.

But then a large hand clasped her arm and a deep voice rumbled: "Khaleesi." His hand was warm and comforting as it curled around her own, but she knew she couldn't stay. She was too restless. 

And then she was running, ever moving forward.  _Where is it?_  She was so scared she could barely breathe, her muscles burning. She should have found it by now, but she couldn't see. The mist was too thick. "Khaleesi," a familiar voice echoed in the distance.

Suddenly it was there, right in front of her. The red door. The lemon tree. The door swung open and a man walked through it, looking around curiously. Her heart leapt up and she flung herself into his arms.

Jon offered her a half-smile and she kissed him. His lips were so soft. He locked her wrists in his hands and pushed her away. She could see his mouth moving, but his words sounded like an echo, coming from a place far away, and she couldn't understand them.

"No," she objected. "I know you love me. Please don't fight it, Jon."

She woke up bathed in sweat, her hair plastered to her neck and her heart beating wildly. There was an ache deep inside of her, one she'd been ignoring for too long. 

***

Taking Harry Hardying into her bed might not have been the best decision Dany had ever made, but she had no regrets. Both Jon and Daario had been better lovers than him, but he sufficed. He was big, strong and square-jawed and his cock filled her up nicely. He was exactly what she needed. 

She leaned back against the cushions, taking a sip of chilled wine as she watched him walk around the room, collecting his clothes, as his seed was still trickling out of her. He flashed her a grin as he caught her looking.  _He is very handsome._ As Lord Paramount of the Vale he was one of the most eligible bachelors in the Seven Kingdoms.

"Tell me, Lord Harrold," she requested. "I hear you are still unwed? Haven't you met any lady to your liking yet?"

He laughed. "I've met plenty. None such as you of course, My Queen. I was even betrothed once."

She raised an eyebrow. "Oh?"

He sat down at the foot of the bed. "To Lady Stark, if you can believe it, though she called herself- what was it again - Alysanne or something at the time. She was pretty enough, and clever, too. She had a sweet wit."

She vaguely recalled hearing those words before. "What happened?"

"Well," he chuckled. "There's a reason they call her an ice queen."

She stared at him for a while. "You may leave, my lord. You've worn me out tonight. And a Queen needs her sleep."

An hour later she was still tossing and turning. Of course, she'd heard men state such things before, and usually it said more about the men in question than the women they were trying to insult. Yet she couldn't help but wonder if there was any truth to Harry's comment. But when she closed her eyes, she saw Jon's smile as his hand curled over the curve of Sansa's belly and her blush as his lips brushed the shell of her ear.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Anyone else who ships Dany and Harry? It's one of my crackships and I honestly don't even know why... I'm probably the only person in the world who has a soft spot for them lol


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> It's been 84 years...
> 
>  
> 
> There's a good reason I've been postponing writing the final part of this story. (And I'm doing it again by putting off the inevitable to a third chapter.) I guess I'm just too soft to do it, but I'll get to it eventually. 
> 
> Anyway, in this chapter Dany is becoming increasingly more frustrated with her life as Queen of a country that doesn't feel like home. She travels North to Winterfell, where she's getting more and more confused about... everything...

Court had been particularly tedious and demanding this morning, and Dany had come out to the outer ramparts of the Red Keep to look out over Blackwater Bay. She liked watching the waves roll and crash into the strong outer walls and the rock of the hill the Red Keep was built on. She loved closing her eyes to hear the wind and the rush of the water murmur into her ears as the salty air hit her face.

She'd always loved the sea and the way its vastness made her feel. Sometimes she'd open her eyes and peer at the horizon, longing for what lay beyond. More often than not when that happened, Rhaegal would appear on the horizon, only a tiny speck, beating her mighty wings until she was close enough to block the sunlight from reaching Dany's eyes.

Rhaegal was nowhere to be seen today, but Dany was not alone anymore. The light shuffle of footsteps approached her, growing louder and more certain as they drew nearer.

"Khaleesi," Jorah's voice rumbled. It filled her belly with a warmth she wanted to lean into, but she kept her eyes on the bay.

"Ser Jorah," she acknowledged him. A couple of moments passed in silence. She could feel his gaze on her, but she refused to look at him.

Eventually he broke the silence. "Are you still thinking about the Stokeworths?"

She swallowed. "No."

"It was a difficult decision," he pointed out.

She shifted to face him, arching an eyebrow. "You don't approve of my judgement?" 

He braced a hand against one of the parapets and sighed. "The crown weighs heavy..."

 _It does..._ She turned her eyes back to the sea. "Shall I tell you something wicked, Ser?," she mused, squinting at the bright sunlight reflecting off the waves. "Sometimes, when I'm supposed to be listening to some petty dispute between two fat lords, I let my mind wander off and dream about boarding a ship, sail away and leave Westeros behind... Does that make me a bad queen, Ser Jorah?"

He frowned, but then offered her a smile. "I don't think it does."

"I'd return to Essos, perhaps visit cities I haven't seen before, settle down somewhere in a house with a red door and a lemon tree." She hadn't thought about the house with the red door in ages, but suddenly she could see it before her mind's eye, as vivid as the sea before them. It was close enough to touch. If she inhaled, she could surely catch the scent of home. 

Jorah's voice interrupted her daydream. "I'd come with you."

She whipped her head up, catching his gaze. "Would you? Would you follow me if I was no longer a queen, but a simple woman who lived a simple life?"

He nodded and swallowed thickly. "I would, Khaleesi..."

***

Dany felt giddy as a child when the invitation from Winterfell came. There was to be a feast in honour of Robb Stark's second nameday. If she had her way, Dany would have mounted Rhaegal to fly north the moment she heard the news. Unfortunately she couldn't just take off on her own, and the preparations to move half of her court to Winterfell were taking too long.

The idea of travelling north again was a welcome one, if only for the change in routine it promised. Life in the Red Keep tended to feel like an endless cycle she couldn't escape lately,  and all of her hard work to implement the improvements she envisioned didn't seem to be paying off.

But she couldn't deny that the joy she felt was mostly caused by the prospect of seeing Jon again. It had been close to three years since she'd last seen him and she believed it was time to make amends with her broken heart and embrace Jon as the last member of her family. She was Queen of the Seven Kingdoms and the blood of the dragon, she needed to be strong. Jon was her nephew, she would turn that into a strength instead of allowing any weakness to distract her.

Unfortunately all of Dany's good intentions vanished the moment she lay eyes on him again. She felt that familiar pull that made her heart speed up. Her stomach flipped in a most pleasant way and she felt a little feverish when he took her hand in greeting.

He had his hair tied back the way he'd worn it when she first met him. His face was a little sharper and his eyes crinkled a little deeper when he smiled down at his son. 

The boy was the spitting image of his father,  except for his enormous blue eyes. Those were Sansa's eyes. She only needed to look up to confirm that. Belatedly she greeted the boy's mother, who responded with an absent smile and a curtsey.

Dany spotted the slight swell of Sansa's belly under her heavy gown. She'd heard gossip at court that the Lady of Winterfell had become barren after giving birth to her son. It was clear those rumours had been false. 

***

Robb's nameday feast was a merry affair. Dany had learned many years ago that Northern celebrations tended to be less formal than Southron ones,  especially once the last remnants of the trenchers had been cleared from the tables.

Dany had brought several barrels of Dornish Red and Arbour Gold up from King's Landing to make up for the abundance of ale

The guest of honour had long since been carried up to his room by his mother, but only after munching down a lemon cake half the size of his little head. 

When Sansa had returned from the Stark family quarters, Jon had pulled her close to kiss her cheek and whisper in her ear. She'd returned to her own seat with a wide smile on her face and a new ring on her finger.

The beer, the wine and the music made the crowd grow rowdier and Dany found herself on her feet all the time. By the time she managed to return to her seat for a sip of wine she thought she must have danced with every single man in the room except for two.

One of them was Jon who'd only joined his guests on the dancefloor once, when Sansa had pulled him out of his chair. The other one was Jorah, whose eyes had been on her the entire time. She took another swig of sweet wine, emptying her cup, and approached him.

"Will you dance with me, Ser Jorah?" she asked him, her voice a little hoarse.

"Of course, my queen," he answered, taking her hand.

He was surprisingly elegant for a man of his stature. "You know this dance well, Ser!" she exclaimed.

"You forget that I am a Northman, Khaleesi," he pointed out.

She laughed as he spun her around. She missed a step and stumbled into his warm, solid chest. He steadied her with a hand on her back. When she looked up, he was already staring at her. She was slightly panting from the exertion of dancing, but when their eyes locked, her breath caught in her throat.

Suddenly she felt very hot and strangely tight inside her own skin. She took a step back and tore her eyes away from his. 

There was a lull in the music during which they stood shuffling uncomfortably until the enormously fat Lord Manderly pushed himself to his feet and started roaring: "A bear there was, a bear, a bear! All blig and back and covered with hair! The bear! The bear!"

"Oh come they said, oh come to the fair! The fair? Said he, but I'm a bear!" bleared Manderly and several other Northmen. "All black and brown, and covered with hair!" This time he got the words right.

The singers and musicians gave in to the guests' wishes and joined in on the next verse. Willing or not, Dany and Ser Jorah were pulled along by the crowd, twirling around amid the other dancers.

_I"ll never dance with a hairy bear_

My bear, my bear, Dany thought as the singers recited:  _A bear! A bear!_

_I'll never dance with a hairy bear_

Yet here she was, dancing with her very own bear. Ser Jorah lifted her effortlessly, whirling around.

 _My knight, my bear._ Her head started spinning as he put her back down on her feet and the Great Hall became a blur around them. It had been a long time since she'd allowed herself to lose control like this. She surrendered to the feeling.

_He licked the honey from her hair._

Dany's cheeks flushed at the image that entered her mind, heat coiling in her belly. She bit her lip and shook her head, trying to clear it.

"My bear _,"_ she sang.  _My bear, my bear._

_And off they went, from here to there,_

_The bear, the bear, and the maiden fair._

Dany woke up alone in a cold bed the next morning, her memories from the night before vague and blurry.

***

Sansa dismounted, helped by one of her handmaidens. Dany swung down from her horse without assistance. The guards guided the horses towards the Wintertown stables. People were already lining up for the food distribution. As they waited for the wagon to arrive, Dany knelt down to stroke the dark curls of one of the children who were staring at them in awe. 

People happily accepted the food from Sansa. Several of them touched her hair or her swollen belly. They thanked Dany when she offered them a loaf of bread or some apples and turnips, but apart from that they barely spared her a glance.

It didn't bother her. They'd never seen her before and they must have no idea who she was. All these people cared about was being able to fill their bellies. She felt a slight pang of envy at the thought that life might be that simple. 

Handing out food to the people of Wintertown with Jon's wife was not what Dany had imagined doing this afternoon. These Northerners were also her people, even if she barely knew them. She was their Queen, it was only right for her to endorse and participate in this distribution.

It was the prospect of spending time with Sansa which had dismayed her, but to her surprise Dany found that she was enjoying herself. Sansa seemed to genuinely care for her people, and she tried her best to keep Dany enganged in conversation while they were giving out food.

A woman with a child on her hip stumbled up to them. An Unsullied guard stepped in and grabbed her by the shoulder, glancing back at Dany. She nodded. "Please, come forward. Don't be afraid."

The woman accepted the food Dany offered her, stuffing it into a makeshift bag. The child she was holding reached out to grab a lock of Dany's hair.

She offered him a smile and looked up at his mother. "You have a beautiful boy. What's his name?"

The woman narrowed her eyes. "It's bad luck to name a babe before he's two."

She threw a glance at Sansa, who nodded almost inconspicuously.

"You're new in Wintertown, aren't you?" Sansa asked the woman. "What's your name?"

"Aye," she answered, brushing some of her corn blonde hair from her face. "I'm Yglin, I used to be a spearwife, but with the wars over and everyone settling down I found me a man, let him steal me." She lifted her son higher up on her hip. "But he went and got himself killed, and now it's just me and the boy."

Her eyes travelled over Sansa's braid and down to her belly. "You're Lord Crow's wife, aren't you?"

She nodded, her shoulders straightening under the other woman's scrutiny.

"And you're the Kneeler Queen from the South," she stated, studying Dany's face.

"I am Daenerys Stormborn of House Targaryen," she started to say, but Yglin interrupted her.

"I don't care for your fancy name," she said through gritted teeth. Dany felt Sansa's hand on her arm.

"I meant no offense," she tried to placate the wildling woman. "What I was trying to say was, I can help you, Yglin. Name whatever you want, and I shall give it to you."

Yglin spat, aiming for the ground in front of Dany's feet. "I'm not kneeling for some coins and a loaf of bread!"

The Unsullied moved in and Yglin's babe started wailing, but Sansa stepped forward, clasping Dany's elbow. "No one is asking you to kneel," she pointed out to Yglin. Dany felt her grip on her elbow tighten and from the corner of her eye, she saw sweat beading at her temple.

She held up a hand to stay her Unsullied guard. "We only wish to help you, Yglin."

The woman clenched her jaw as she rocked her babe, her eyes flitting between the child's face and the two women standing opposite her.

"That's a beatiful scarf you're wearing, Yglin," Sansa said softly. "I really like it."

Dany glanced at the scarf. It was plain, greyish green of colour and well-made, but there was nothing special about it. From the way Yglin's brow was furrowed, she could tell the other woman was as confused by Sansa's comment as she was.

Sansa released Dany's arm and slid a ring off her finger. "I'd like to buy it from you," she said, offering Yglin her ring.

The wildling woman eyed her suspiciously, but nodded. She took off her scarf and gave it to Sansa. "You're not that bad, Lady Crow," she mused. "For a kneeler."

Both women started laughing and Dany joined in, confused as she was at the exchange. She'd have to ask Sansa about it later. The woman left and Sansa looped her arm through Dany's.

"Wasn't that the ring Jon gave you at the feast?" she asked her.

"I know he won't mind," Sansa answered. "And I still have plenty of baubles."

"Of course," she muttered. She'd always thought Sansa insipid and shallow, but today she'd seen a different side of her rival. She wondered whether this was what Jon saw when he looked at her. 

"We should get back to Winterfell." Her voice was unsteady, and Dany noticed how pale her face had become.

"Are you all right?" she asked, holding on to Sansa's arm more tightly, trying to support her. 

She pursed her lips. "The pregnancy is harder on my body this time."

Dany bit her lip. "There were rumours at court," she whispered low enough so no one else would hear. "Some people said you weren't able to have children after your first."

Sansa studied her face for a moment, her soft blue eyes turning hard as ice. "Jon and I want to have five of them, maybe six, if we're lucky enough."

"I'll pray you'll get your wish," Dany said, but her voice sounded hollow.

 

 


End file.
